


I Want to See You

by MagicMarker



Series: Tolkien's Dirty December 2015 [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bilbo is Mr Watson, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Panty Kink, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Thorin in panties, Thorin is Alexander Graham Bell, should I file this under, sorta - Freeform, well bloomers anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirty December Day 11: Phone Sex (with a hint of the Weekly Prompt: Thorin in lacy panties)<br/>Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins create the world's first telephone.  Once they discover it works, Bilbo decides to have a little fun with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want to See You

**Author's Note:**

> I asked "What pairing should I do for the Phone Sex prompt for Dirty December?" and the internet answered "Honestly the first thing that came to mind was The First Phone Call. Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Watson. Someone's probably written that, haven't they?" To which I replied, Probably, but let's make it a Bagginshield AU. Enjoy.

Thorin sat at his desk, frock coat cast aside, ascot hanging open around his neck.  The setting sun cast an orange hue over his office, glinting off the wires and brackets holding the bell upright in its stand.  They’d done everything right, he was sure of it now.  The cable that protruded from the end of the telephone hung off the end of the table, trailing out the door and down the stairs.  Bilbo had just left to do one last check of it to make sure there were no breaks in connection, no stray hair causing even the least bit of interference.  

 

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.  Though the bitter March wind snuck in through the drafty window, he was feeling overheated.  It all came down to this.  If Bilbo didn’t hear him this time, he’d have to give up and let that bastard Thranduil Oropherion beat him to the patent.  

 

“All right, Thorin!” Bilbo cried from downstairs.  “Let’s give it a go!”

 

He took a deep breath, leaned in towards the narrow tube on the desk, then hesitated.  What should he say?  If this worked, no doubt the newspapers would be asking him what it was he even bothered to spit into the damn thing.  

 

“B...Baggins…?”

 

A hiss, rather like a sharp breath of air, responded through the small bell.  Was that…?

 

“Mr. Baggins, come here.  I want to see you.”  There, that was nice and professional, wasn’t it?

 

There was a bit of a crackle, and Bilbo’s voice came over the line in response.  “No, Mr. Oakenshield, _you_ come here.  I want to see _you_ … in those little lacy bloomers I know you have hidden under those trousers.”

 

“I-- Wh-- _Bilbo!”_

 

“Thought I wouldn’t notice.  But I did.”  Bilbo chuckled softly.  “Come now, Miss Bowman’s left for the day, there’s no one here but you and me.  What do you say we celebrate your most recent success in the best way I know how?”

 

The air was stifling.  How was it this hot in the middle of March?  There had to be something wrong with the boiler, surely.  Thorin pulled at the button at his throat, loosing it with sigh.  He absolutely would not admit how tight his pants were getting.

 

“Although,” Bilbo mused, “I rather like this new toy we’ve invented.  For instance, now I can tell you how I’ve been half-hard all day at the thought of you in that frilly thing, and I can avoid your over-eager hands.”

 

Thorin palmed himself with a groan.  Where was this coming from?  “Bilbo, I don’t know if this is a good idea…”

 

“What, afraid someone will listen in?”  Bilbo laughed then, all crackles and pops through the wire.  “I told you, we’re alone.  And unless you gave someone else another one of these devices, well, I think we’ll be fine.  Did you, Thorin?  Give someone else one of these?  Or did you only want to call on me?”

 

“Just you,” Thorin answered with a croak.  “You know it’s only you.”  He unbuttoned his waistcoat, trying to let some air in.  He should really get that boiler looked at.

 

“Only me,” Bilbo repeated, sounding quite pleased.  “Only me with the telephone, and only me with the ability to get Thorin Oakenshield leaking in his trousers.  I bet you’re touching yourself already, aren’t you?”

 

Any response would give him away, so he went with silence.

 

“Oh-ho-hohh, Thorin, how does that lace feel against your prick, hm?  So much better than that normal cotton I’m sure.”

 

Thorin stroked himself over his pants, relishing the sensation of the slightly rough, yet delicate fabric over his skin.  “It does,” he gasped.

 

“Does what?”

 

“It feels good.”  A jolt of pleasure ran through him at the admission.  There was just something about the way he could hear Bilbo but not see him, the elimination of one sense that heightened all the rest.  “So good.”

 

“Take yourself out of your trousers for me, Thorin,” Bilbo said.  “I’ve already done that ages ago.”

 

“Oh sweet Christ,” Thorin breathed, already imagining his partner in the office downstairs, shades drawn and trousers open, stroking himself idly while he spoke those teasing words into their new device.  

 

Thorin fumbled at his buttons, gasping with relief;  finally he had only the loose bloomers to confine him.  The sharp points of his collar poked at his chin as he looked behind him at the window; though he was on the second floor he still feared that someone would somehow peek in.  Of course there was no one, and he fell forward again so his lips brushed the mouthpiece of the telephone.  “Bilbo, I--”

 

“You want to touch, don’t you?  Tell me, how hard are you for me already?”

 

His ears burned, and it was all he could do to whine, “Bilbo…”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“I’m so hard, I’m ruining my bloomers, Bilbo, I have to--”

 

“Do it,”  Bilbo replied, voice clearly strained even over their fuzzy connection.  

 

The second Thorin’s hand covered his bare flesh he bowed his head all the way to the table.  

 

“I can hear you even without the telephone,” Bilbo teased, but the hitch in his voice betrayed him.

 

“Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this too,” Thorin growled.

 

A long pause.  Perhaps Bilbo enjoyed this quite a bit more than he let on.

 

“N-no, on the contrary, I--” He stopped again, and a strange hiss came through the line.

 

“...Bilbo?”

 

“Aaah-I’m fine, fine, just fine.”

 

The lie went straight to his head and in moments he was falling over the edge of bliss.  All he could see was the image of Bilbo downstairs listening in, following him.  Soon he could hear it too.

 

Slowly, slowly, Thorin cleaned himself up and began packing everything away for the night.  He disconnected the phone from the cable, picked up his coat, and collected the cable as he headed down the stairs.  When he arrived at Bilbo’s office, he placed the coil of wire on the desk and leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of the other man’s head.

 

“Well, shall we?” Bilbo asked weakly, still pulling his tie and jacket straight as they headed to the door.

 

“Yes.  See you tomorrow?  We still have that patent to write."

 

"Yes, I'd gotten somewhat distracted," Bilbo hummed, straightening his cap and starting on his way.  "See you tomorrow then."

 

Shaking his head, Thorin watched him leave.  His underthings were completely ruined thanks to that little tease.  Well, at least he had a second pair saved for when their patent was accepted, and they could celebrate again.  

 

He'd get started on the first draft tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say I'm sorry, but this is what you get when you give me goofy ideas. I give you goofy fic. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com).


End file.
